Mr Holmes and Miss Hooper - a Sherlolly Story

Chapter 18

Sherlock's feet had never moved so fast. His breath was shallow and his body tingled as he felt the lift drop lower and lower, getting closer and closer to the morgue floor. The floor where he'd see her. The one he loved, he was sure of that now - more sure than he'd ever been. The only thing he was currently unsure of was how to get Lestrade out of the way. He needed a moment alone with her, he needed to make her see. He reached the doors to the morgue and swung them open out of habit. He was expecting to find Molly, but he found only Lestrade.

"Sherlock, nice of you to finally show your face."

"Where's Molly?" He did not have time to appease Greg.

"Ah yes, she told me she knew you. Said you work together at school."

Sherlock felt his heart drop into the empty pit of his stomach. Is that all he was to her now? Just a work colleague?

"Correct. Where is she?" He tried his best to sound casual. He didn't manage it but Lestrade, as ever, did not seem to notice.

"She just finished up and she's gone to file some paperwork. I hadn't expected you to show up so she wrote all of her findings down so I could give them to you later. Here."

He passed him a wad of paper. It was formal and to the point, written on St Barts headed paper. This was another unexpected blow to Sherlock's heart. They often sent each other paperwork at school - marking, shared textbooks, research papers. And whenever they did, Molly would place a post-it note on the front page. Sometimes, it had a kind message on it telling him to enjoy his day. Other times, it would express her excitement for their plans later on. His favourites simply said 'love, Molly' in her signature swirly handwriting. This paperwork contained no note, no hint of Molly's personality at all. If he was of a rational mind right now, he would think about how the content of this paperwork demanded formality. He may also remember to ask whether Greg had told her the paperwork would be given to Sherlock, which he had not.

"Right, thank you."

"You alright, mate? You seem odd. Well, more odd than normal I suppose."

Sherlock blinked. Apparently, he did notice.

"Yes, fine. I'll text you later with my conclusions."

Without a glance at his companion, Sherlock began striding towards the office. He had to see her, he had to fix this.

"Alright, well I'll see you later then. Be careful you don't scare the poor woman, I didn't get the chance to tell her you were working on this with me." Greg's words didn't reach Sherlock's ears, he was too focused. Greg shook his head at the man before heading out of the doors.

Sherlock's feet stopped at the threshold of the office, staring at her through the windowed door. He took in the sight of her, curled over some work on the desk. She had one leg tucked up underneath her on the chair, raising her up a bit so she could write at a better angle. He imagined her complaining to herself about how desks and desk chairs never quite accommodated shorter people. He smiled at the look of concentration on her face, her eyebrows were slightly drawn together and her teeth bit down onto her bottom lip. He looked down at the paper in his hands, skimming over the words written by her. He felt pride swelling in his chest, she was amazing at this. Her words were so precise, so well explained and many of her conclusions were the same as his. For a woman technically out of practice, her autopsy notes were the best he had ever seen. He was smiling when he looked up again, only for his face to drop when he saw the broken expression on Molly's face through the window in the door. She had seen him, he raised his hand in a small wave. She seemed to school her expression then, rising from her chair and moving to open the door.

"Sherlock, hi. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Erm yes, Lestrade asked me to help out with this case."